


Come on Now, Sugar (Bring It On, Bring It On Yeah)

by JackEPeace



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, High School AU, girl detectives, veronica mars AU, when prompts go bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 08:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1811374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackEPeace/pseuds/JackEPeace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though, Skye is pretty sure that if she hears the term “private dick” one more time she won’t be held accountable for her actions. Unfortunately her classmates don’t seem to agree because they all laugh uproariously every time someone shouts the phrase or asks her if she’s planning on being a “private dick” too. Skye is pretty sure it’s just the excuse to use the word “dick” that has everyone so entertained. Skye really hates high school. (Veronica Mars AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come on Now, Sugar (Bring It On, Bring It On Yeah)

**Author's Note:**

> So, once again we are faced with a prompt that turned into an actual story and got way out of control. I should have seen it coming, I have a lot of Veronica Mars feels. So this story is obviously inspired by the show Veronica Mars and the episode "Kane and Abel's" from season one. Several other elements were also inspired by the first season of the show. If you've never watched Veronica Mars, you definitely need to do so at your earliest convenience. Title comes from the song "We Used to Be Friends" by the Dandy Warhols which was the theme song to, yup you guessed it, Veronica Mars.

Another day another news story.

Skye could set the clock by them, honestly. She's pretty sure that the reporters of Neptune wouldn't know what to do with themselves if a single morning went by where they didn't report on the "shamed sheriff." They'd probably just sit there staring into the news cameras.

Personally, Skye would rather have a morning of the reporters gaping dumbly at an empty teleprompter instead of having to deal with yet another news blurb.

Honestly, it's been eight months. Apparently people aren't sick of hearing about it yet.

Skye definitely is.

But that doesn't stop her from standing by the kitchen counter, cradling her bowl of cereal and scowling at the TV. To be fair, she is most definitely not a morning person and the scowl is part of her normal appearance. But it definitely increases intensity whenever the stupid reporters talk about "shamed" former-sheriff Phil Coulson.

There's nothing new to report, it's just rehashing old details. Only this morning's report features a delightful sound-bite from John Garrett, newly appointed sheriff of Neptune, California. What a douche-clown. Skye can't stand him.

Skye continues scowling, chewing methodically on another mouthful of cereal. On the screen, Garrett is gloating, preening in front of the press. "Every day we find more evidence suggesting that Sheriff Coulson is…well, I don't want to say a bumbling idiot but…"

"Idiot, huh?" The sound of Coulson's voice behind her causes Skye to turn around, guiltily reaching for the remote and flicking off the television. Coulson gives her an exhausted but sincere smile and shrugs. "Don't worry about it. I've heard it all before."

"You're not an idiot." Skye assures him quickly, watching Coulson as he goes to pour himself a cup of coffee. "He's the idiot."

Artfully put, Skye. Well done.

Coulson makes a noncommittal noise but he arches his eyebrows, a clear sign that he's not going to argue that point.

Skye has to hand it to the man. He's incredibly easy going, especially considering everything he's had to deal with.

Just look at him now: dressed in a snazzy suit and tie, looking all put together and professional. Skye figures that most people would take the events of the past eight months as an excuse to hide under the covers and not get up again. He's had plenty to hide from after all: the public humiliation of "botching" an headline grabbing murder case; being ousted from his job; his wife walking out with little more than a note left on the counter; the news continuing to rub his shortcomings in his face every morning. But Coulson has just bounced from one thing to the next, moving from protecting and serving to helping the disgruntled and desperate members of Neptune by opening his own private investigator's office.

Skye is pretty sure that Coulson's brave face is mostly for her benefit. She's accepted this likelihood with both guilt and relief.

Coulson had spent the first few months after his public humiliation and abrupt divorce pouring through case files and evidence reports and watching the news almost constantly. Four months ago, Skye's social worker had arrived for her unscheduled visit and it had been the first time that Skye's behavior and actions hadn't been under scrutiny. It had been the first time that Skye had waited around for her social worker to have a meeting with her foster parents instead of being the one having the meeting.

After that, Coulson had put the case files away and applied for his private investigator's license. Everything else had fallen into place. Clearly there are plenty of people in Neptune who need someone to do their dirty work for them.

Yup, everything had fallen into place. Except for the daily news reports and the continual references being made by the new sheriff at how badly the old sheriff sucked.

Also the public ridicule. And the infamy.

Skye would really like to move but apparently there's no place like home.

"Working on anything good?" Skye questions, finishing her bowl of cereal as Coulson pops two pieces of bread into the toaster. "Catch anyone in the middle of any lewd acts last night?"

Coulson makes a face. "Can we not talk business over breakfast?" He mumbles. "Or ever? I'm pretty sure it's in bad taste to talk about cheating spouses and lewd acts with your sixteen-year-old foster daughter."

"I won't tell if you won't." Skye gives him a winning smile.

Coulson just shakes his head. "Skye, really, it's not that interesting. The PI business isn't nearly as exciting as they make it look on TV."

Much to Skye's annoyance, Coulson has definitely done his best to separate business and his home life. Even if that means keeping Skye away from all his fancy gadgets and impressive computer programs and bag of tricks.

There are definitely a few people she goes to school with that Skye wouldn't mind digging up dirt on. It would only be fair, considering the mud-slinging they've been involved in over the past eight months. Skye wouldn't mind airing their family's dirty laundry.

Maybe that's exactly why Coulson is careful to keep her away.

"But-" Skye starts to protest.

Coulson cuts her off with a look. "Don't you have school?"

School. Of course. Skye can't think of a more cringe-worthy word. But she doesn't bother to argue; Coulson can definitely out-stubborn her when he wants to. And that's quite a feat.

Instead, Skye just rinses out her cereal bowl and loads it into the dishwasher before walking toward the front door to retrieve her backpack. Coulson gives her a smile and a wave before she disappears out the front door, heading toward the front of the apartment complex to catch the school bus.

As she waits by the corner, Skye can't help but take in her surroundings. She's lived in Neptune for the past two years but she still has yet to get used to the dramatic differences from block to block. She's never minded the shitty apartment building where she lives with Coulson because it's the first time she's ever been in a foster home for more than two months so who is she to be picky about the fact that their neighbors fought all the time or that people dealt drugs by the pool? But just two blocks from where she lives, you can pay a couple grand for an apartment each month. Further down her street are chop-shops and bars that never close. The kids who wait at the bus stop with her have dads in prison and alcoholic moms and dead siblings. Skye has classmates who drive Porches and live in multi-million dollar homes on the water.

Neptune definitely can't figure out if it belongs to the haves or the have-nots.

Only the have-nots take the bus, which is just fine with Skye. Because only the have-nots leave her alone and pretend like she doesn't exist and she's kind enough to return the favor. The rich kids are the ones who can't seem to learn that particular lesson of teenage courtesy.

Apparently the only thing in Neptune worse than being a foster kid is being the foster kid of the disgraced sheriff.

Skye thinks that Neptune High looks like most of the other schools that she's had the privilege of being sent to during her days of being shipped from foster home to foster home. Only this one has a lot more expensive cars in the parking lot.

The past eight months have taught Skye to keep her head down and her skin thick. She was never popular before but everything with Coulson and the murder case have made her even more likely to be subjected to mocking and ridicule. She can take it, she's heard it all before.

Some particularly innovative rich kid has made a flyer boasting the words Vote for Sheriff Coulson! He's a bumbling idiot! and taped it to her locker. Skye rolls her eyes as she tears the paper off, balling it up and throwing it onto the floor. At least she knows her classmates watch the news.

Skye ignores the comments in the hallway, the smug looks from her teachers. She ignores the way that she's given a wide berth as she sits by herself at lunch. She ignores the glares and catcalls from her classmates.

Apparently having your foster dad accuse the father of the most popular kid at school of murder doesn't do anything to help your cool factor.

For the record, Skye doesn't think Coulson was wrong. But it doesn't really matter what she thinks. Especially when you have enough money to buy your way out of any situation.

And when your step-brother is the newly elected sheriff.

The Wards are one of the richest families in Neptune. Grant Ward is definitely not Skye's number one fan and, by default, the rest of the popular rich kids have made her public enemy number one. Out of solidarity and ass-kissing purposes, of course.

Skye is always relieved when the day is over. But instead of getting on the bus and heading back to The Inn at Sunset Cliffs (a pretty name for a shitty complex), Skye walks toward the hustle and bustle of downtown Neptune. You would never guess, just by looking around, that Neptune was home to anyone other than movie stars, musicians and real estate gurus. The restaurants are lavish, the building edifices are full of architectural glamour and the hotels are pricy.

And then there's the building which houses Coulson Private Investigations. It's on the top level of an old office building, which also features an "acupuncturist" and a coffee shop and a few other oddities.

When Skye steps into the waiting room, she's pleased to see that there are two people sitting on the plush leather couch (a thrift store find that she's particularly proud of) and the door to Coulson's office is closed, signaling that he's meeting with another client. This is definitely good news. She knows that any client is important because money is money. And people aren't exactly inclined to trust Coulson and his judgment after the whole accusing-a-wealthy-man-of-murder thing.

Skye glances at the closed office door once more before tip-toeing past it and sitting down at Coulson's desk. Private victory. Normally she doesn't get even this far before Coulson is chasing her off to do her homework or something.

Before Skye can even think about hacking his password and logging on to Coulson's super-secret PI sites, one of the women waiting on the couch gets up and marches over to the desk.

"It's about time." She snaps, narrowing her eyes slightly. "I've been waiting for almost thirty minutes and haven't spoken to a single person. Were you out to lunch or something?"

She barely looks at Skye, clearly having decided that she's beneath her and therefore isn't worth her time. If she did, maybe she'd realize that Skye is a high school student and not a secretary.

And Skye wants to tell her this but she bites her tongue. Because paying clients are good clients. Right? Even if they are bitchy.

"Uh…sorry." Skye clears her throat. "Mr. Coulson is just finishing up with another client. I'm sure he'll be out in a moment."

The woman doesn't seem interested. She just looks at Skye impatiently. "Are you incapable of taking down my information?" She arches a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "You look like you can hold a pencil."

Skye really hates these rich, entitled Neptune socialites. But they have a lot of money.

So she forces a smile on her face. Because apparently thinking about money can help with that sort of thing.

"Sure." Skye opens the desk draws until she finds a legal pad. "Why don't you tell me what your problem is."

It sounds polite enough when she says it. Skye considers it a small victory that the lady doesn't seem to pick up on her nuance.

The woman goes on to explain to Skye who she believes her husband is cheating on her with the maid or maybe the nanny or possibly even the pool boy, she's honestly not sure. She just knows there's some sort of cheating going on and she needs proof so she can get the Jag and the French vacation home in the divorce. Not to mention beaucoup moolah.

Coulson comes out of his office while Skye is still taking down the information, nodding along as she writes down as much detail as she can. Skye catches the expression on his face out of the corner of her eye and he doesn't look pleased. He looks the opposite of pleased actually. But instead of banishing her from the office, Coulson just turns his attention to the other person waiting on the couch, shaking her hand as he leads her into the office.

Skye figures that's a pretty good start.

However, it doesn't seem like Coulson has forgotten to be annoyed with her. As soon as the office is empty once more, he turns his attention to Skye, who has to resist the urge to slink down underneath the desk.

"So what part of don't hang around the office was hard for you to understand?" Coulson questions, crossing his arms over his chest.

Skye shrugs, spinning the pen around on the pad of paper. "I…I wanted to see how your day was going?"

"And that somehow translated into you talking to clients and taking on cases?"

Once more, Skye just shrugs. "She was going to leave." She points out defensively. "I was just trying to help. I know that you need clients and-"

"Skye," Coulson says with a sigh, "you don't have to worry about stuff like that."

"But I can help." Skye steamrolls over his comment. "You need a secretary or something. Someone who can help you keep everything organized."

Coulson just shakes his head. "What kind of a foster parent would I be if I let you go on stakeouts and take pictures of…sordid trysts?"

"I didn't say all that." Skye points out, arching an eyebrow. "I said secretary."

Coulson sighs, frowning. But Skye feels a thrill of excitement, like she might have just won this particular argument. Dirty laundry here she comes.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

Coulson consents of allowing Skye to help him out in the office after school. But strictly in the office. He doesn't even entertain the passing thought of letting her actually work any of the cases or think about getting her hands dirty. He doesn't even talk about the cases with her. He also doesn't give her any of the information to the PI databases and servers that he uses to try and track down bail-jumpers or missing child support payments.

Not that Skye really needs his passwords.

Even though she's helping out at the office, Skye still doesn't see all the much of Coulson. She's gotten used to him staying out late or not coming home until morning (not that any of that information would ever make it to her social worker) and not much changes when she steps into the role of secretary. She knows that he's hard at work trying to catch cheating spouses or partying children or tracking down pawned jewelry or missing show dogs. And most of those things happen after the sun goes down.

She's not really doing much more than taking information and working on the filing system in the office but Skye still feels like she's doing something to help Coulson. He's done so much for her over the past two years, this is the least she could do. It might not be much but she's able to delude herself into thinking that it's something.

And maybe he's just saying it to make her feel better but Coulson sounds sincere when he tells her that having her around is a big help. Skye chooses to believe him, mostly because he's never lied to her before.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

Another morning. Another news report.

Another month has gone by and not much has changed.

Skye really has to hand it to these Neptune people. All the money in the world and they can't manage to figure out how to do something other than obsess over their old sheriff and his shortcomings.

Of course, Sheriff Garrett doesn't exactly make it easy. He seems to enjoy talking about Coulson even more than he enjoys talking about finding murderers and serving justice.

Skye glares at the television as she slathers cream cheese on her bagel. She was too busy glaring at Garrett to watch the toaster and now the bagel is burnt and she's hoping that mountain of cream cheese will make it edible.

But it's not the burnt bagel that puts a bad taste in her mouth. It's Richard Simmons, Sheriff Garrett's number one fan. He seems to relish every opportunity to get in front of the cameras and bad mouth the former sheriff of Balboa County.

Skye figures it's mostly because the guy doesn't have anything better to do. His wife is Regina Simmons, three time Golden-Globe winner and one-time Oscar Nominee; she makes more than enough with her stupid rom-com movies to bankroll the multi-million dollar mansion and the sports cars and wardrobe and toys and gadgets. Clearly, Richard Simmons alternates between spending his wife's money and slandering Coulson.

He was the one who spear-headed the emergency recall election that ejected Coulson from office and cemented his status as Neptune pariah. He's not only close friends with Ward's father -the accused murderer- but also with the parents of the murder victim and this has apparently made him a champion for justice.

Seriously. Champion for Justice is his Twitter handle and everything. Skye wishes she could make this stuff up.

"The former sheriff's witch hunt set us back in the search for justice." Richard Simmons is in the middle of saying on the previously recorded clip they're showing on the news right now. "Because of his failings, we might never be able to bring the real killer to justice."

Skye rolls her eyes and shuts off the television. Then she throws her bagel in the trash. It's going to be one of those days.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

Skye is in the middle of attempting to organize a particularly messy stack of papers from when Coulson first opened his office when she hears the door open. She turns around, fixing a smile in place for the benefit of the potential new client.

But the smile quickly fades when she sees who has walked through the door.

Skye has never seen Sheriff Garrett in person but thanks to the endless barrage of news coverage, she feels like she knows him. You'd think people never died in Neptune with the amount of press her murdered classmate has been receiving.

Well, Skye should amend that statement. Wealthy people never die in Neptune. The have-nots don't often warrant news coverage.

"I've been meaning to stop by and I just haven't been able to pencil it in." Garrett remarks, taking in the drab décor and simple furniture with a smug look on his face. "I just had to see for myself how far the mighty had fallen."

Skye frowns, relieved that Coulson is out of the office doing surveillance on a seedy motel. "What do you want?"

Garrett laughs, looking amused. "I can see Coulson didn't hire you for your people skills." His smile grows as he continues to study her. "No, wait. You're the kid, right? The orphan?"

Skye grits her teeth. She is not an orphan, contrary to popular belief. She has no idea where her dad is because he's never been in the picture and her mother signed away her parental rights when Skye was three because the woman realized that having a three year old made it harder to score. So not an orphan. Just…unwanted.

Garrett laughs again, throwing his head back. "This is even better than I imagined." He shakes his head. "Coulson has his foster kid doing the dirty work for him. Does he at least give you an allowance?"

Skye just continues to glare at him. She's had plenty of practice doing this during the morning news.

Thankfully, Garrett takes off when he learns that Coulson isn't around, though he's still laughing and shaking his head as he goes. Skye is glad that at least one of them can be amused.

Apparently Garrett is as much of a gossip as her teenaged classmates because the following day at school, everyone seems to know that Skye has been working at Coulson's PI firm.

Only the wealthy kids of movie stars and rock stars would think that having a job was something to laugh about.

Though, Skye is pretty sure that if she hears the term "private dick" one more time she won't be held accountable for her actions. Unfortunately her classmates don't seem to agree because they all laugh uproariously every time someone shouts the phrase or asks her if she's planning on being a "private dick" too. Skye is pretty sure it's just the excuse to use the word "dick" that has everyone so entertained.

Skye really hates high school.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

When Skye trips over the girl asleep on the library floor, it's hard to say which of them is more surprised. Skye stumbles, nearly pulling down one of the shelves as she reaches out to steady herself. Thankfully that doesn't happen.

The girl lets out a squeak of surprise, sitting up right and looking completely disoriented. The side of her face is puffy and creased from resting against the wrinkled fabric of her shirt. She looks over at Skye like Skye is the one to blame. Like she wasn't the one sprawled out sleeping on the floor.

But, more than anything, she just looks confused.

"Uh…" Skye arches an eyebrow. "Are you okay?"

Not that she cares or anything.

Skye doesn't know this girl even though she's seen her around a few times. But she can tell from her expensive clothes and her designer bag that she's definitely one of the haves. And maybe Skye is biased but that it's an instant three-strikes-and-you're-out situation in her book.

"I…" The girl pushes her hair away from her face, her cheeks growing pink. "I was looking for a book on nucleotides and I must have…I fell asleep." She looks both shocked and embarrassed by this obvious fact. "Oh."

Skye shrugs, tugging the straps of her backpack. "Okay. Whatever."

The girl doesn't seem to mind her lack of interest in polite conversation. She's too busy gathering up her things and staggering to her feet, muttering to herself all the while. She doesn't spare Skye a second glance as she hurries out of the library, which is just fine with Skye.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

Skye doesn't look away from her locker even though she feels someone standing beside her. She's had enough experience to know that ignoring the problem doesn't always make it go away but lack of reaction can usually cause her tormentors to get bored sooner and leave her alone.

But whoever is standing there patiently on the other side of her open locker door doesn't seem interested in taking the hint and getting lost. So finally Skye just sighs, slamming her door shut and turning to acknowledge her classmate. "What?"

Skye is surprised to see that she's face to face with the girl from yesterday. The sleeping library girl. Even though she's obviously awake now, she still looks half asleep; there are bags under her eyes and she just has the aura of someone who is pushed to the brink of exhaustion.

"I need your help." The library girl says without preamble.

Skye can't hide the surprise on her face. "Uh….sorry?" She blinks. "I don't even know you."

"Oh, right, of course, I'm sorry." The girl shakes her head, looking embarrassed. "I just…I've heard what they say about you and-"

"You know," Skye interrupts, "definitely not the best way to get me to do something for you."

Skye turns away, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and not caring if she whacks the other girl in the process. She doesn't but her intentions don't deter the girl from hurrying after her as Skye heads down the hallway.

"Wait. Please. I'm sorry." The girl says quickly. "I'm not thinking clearly right now. I haven't slept…that's the problem. I need…" She reaches out and grabs Skye's arm. "Please stop and listen."

Skye groans but she halts anyway, giving the girl an expectant look. "Okay. Go." She pulls her arm away, crossing them over her chest.

"My name is Jemma. I heard…it's true that you work at the former sheriff's private investigative firm, right?" She looks desperate as she asks this, like she so badly needs it to be true and not because she wants to poke fun at Skye.

Skye just shrugs.

"I need your help. There's someone…harassing me. It's why I haven't slept." Jemma explains. "It's been going on for weeks and I…I can't take it anymore."

Skye can't help but look at her and see the obvious truth in her face. She looks like someone who is hanging on by a thread, someone who is being pushed beyond their breaking point.

"You want me to talk to Coulson for you?" Skye questions, slightly confused.

Quickly, Jemma shakes her head. "No, no nothing like that." She waves her hand dismissively. "I was hoping…that you might be able to help me?"

Skye scoffs. "I don't do stuff like that."

Though, to be fair, Skye doesn't know if she's referring to the PI stuff or helping out the rich and wealthy kids.

"I could pay you, of course." Jemma continues, talking over Skye's objection. "I just…I don't know what else to do. I can't handle this for much longer." She takes a breath and looks at Skye, her eyes wide and pleading. "I need help."

Skye isn't sure what it is. Maybe it's the sad and utterly hopeless look on her face. Or maybe it's the fact that no one has ever come to her for help before. No one has ever valued her aside from Coulson. But whatever the case, Skye finds herself wanting to nod, wanting to assure this girl that she'll help her.

But she doesn't have to know that.

So Skye just groans, wrinkling her nose. "I'll see what I can do." She grumbles. "But I can't make any promises."

Immediately, it's like a weight has come off the girl's shoulders and she heaves a sigh of relief, nodding. "Of course. Thank you. I…thank you."

She's in the middle of writing down her phone number and address when the sound of someone shouting from across the hall catches both Jemma and Skye's attention. Skye looks over to see a lanky, curly-headed boy clutching a stack of books to his chest and desperately trying to get Jemma's attention.

"Simmons!" He shouts, shifting the books around so that he has a free hand to wave at her, like she could possibly avoid seeing him right now. "What are you doing? We need to get to class!"

Jemma gives Skye an apologetic look, handing over the paper with her information. "I'll speak to you later then?" She asks hopefully.

Skye just nods, tucking the paper into her back pocket.

It isn't until she's watching Jemma and her friend hurry down the hall that something in Skye's brain clicks and a feeling of dread pools in her stomach. Jemma Simmons. As in Richard Simmons' darling daughter.

Shit.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

Of course, Skye knows that she could back out. She could refuse to help Jemma Simmons and let her deal with her own problems. She doesn't owe Jemma or any of the haves a single thing. She's not obligated to do a single thing to make their lives easier.

But, for whatever reason, Skye finds herself standing on the front stoop and ringing the door bell.

For the record, the outside of the Simmons house is absolutely insane. Skye seriously spent five minutes just staring at the place and trying to figure out if she had the right address. Because it doesn't seem natural that anyone could actually live in a place like this.

The lawn is well manicured and lush and green, despite the unforgiving California sun and the fact that it hasn't rained in three months. There are at least three stories to this place and the upper levels all have balconies. Skye caught a glimpse of a pool house as she headed down the walk and she can only imagine the insane pool that stretches out in front of it.

Skye isn't sure whether she should be anxious about setting foot in such a place or excited about seeing how the other half lives.

Honestly, she's a little surprised when Jemma herself answers the door. Skye had just assumed that all these rich people had servants who went around doing mundane tasks for them. Jemma looks so happy to see her that it takes Skye a second to remember that they aren't actually old friends and that she's here strictly for business purposes.

"I'm glad you're here." Jemma confesses, gesturing for Skye to come inside. "I wasn't sure that you were going to come, honestly. I thought you might back out. Which is understandable, I'm not trying to pressure you into helping me or anything I'm just really relieved you're-"

"Yeah, it's fine." Skye interrupts before Jemma can start expressing her gratitude all over again. "I'm here. Chill."

Skye is trying not to be obvious but she can't help herself. She can't stop from checking the place out. There are arched ceilings and winding staircases and glittering chandeliers. There's a mantle above a huge fireplace and the mantle is littered with pictures of Regina Simmons rubbing elbows with the rich and fabulous. Actually, most of the pictures seem to be of Regina or Regina and Richard with famous faces or standing in front of famous landmarks in exotic places.

The furniture is expensive. The rugs are clearly worth a fortune. Everything is tidy and polished and immaculate.

Skye likes her apartment better.

"Can I get you anything?" Jemma questions, wringing her hands. "Water? A soda? Something to eat?"

Skye arches an eyebrow. "You mean you'd have your maid get me something?"

Jemma snaps her mouth shut, the tips of her ears turning pink. But she decides to let the comment go, though Skye is sure it's because it was spot on. "Perhaps we should just go to my room and I can explain everything that's been going on."

Skye follows Jemma up the winding staircase toward the second story of the house. There are so many bedrooms Skye has no idea how anyone could possibly manage to fill them up. As far as she knows, Jemma is an only child which makes the rooms even more unnecessary. She fights down the urge to start opening the doors, curious to see if any of the rooms are just empty.

Jemma leads her to a room at the end of the hall, looking almost embarrassed as she opens the door and gestures for Skye to step inside. Clearly the opulence Skye saw downstairs has extended into this room. Or, rooms rather. It's more like a suite, honestly. Skye can see the adjoining room, which looks like it's been fashioned into some sort of study, and an anteroom as well as a walk-in closet and a bathroom. There's a four poster bed and a vanity and an antique chest of drawers, not to mention towering bookshelves and a trunk at the foot of the bed. Skye wonders what it's like to fall asleep in this room every night, surrounded by so much stuff.

Even the dog that Skye sees resting at the foot of Jemma's bed looks expensive. His coat is a deep red color, long and shiny, aside from the hint of grey around his muzzle. He lifts his head when he sees Jemma, his bushy tail whacking against the plush white comforter.

Jemma smiles, reaching out to rest her hand on the top of the dog's head, scratching him behind the ears. "This is Skipper." She introduces, looking back over at Skye. "Do you like dogs? If not, I can always put him out. But he's friendly, I promise."

Skye shrugs. "I guess." She's never really had much experience with dogs, despite wanting one desperately when she was a little girl. A dog, a home, a family, all things she prayed for each night. Eventually she stopped praying and wanting. But now she has Coulson and that's more than enough.

They head toward the adjoining study with Skipper trailing behind them. There are even more shelves loaded with books in here and a polished oak desk with a laptop that makes Skye practically salivate. She feels like she gets by okay with her older model but there's no telling the sort of things she could get up to with a laptop like that one. The Internet would be her bitch.

There's a moment of awkward silence and Jemma looks anywhere but Skye, absently stroking her hands down Skipper's back. Finally Skye clears her throat and looks at Jemma expectantly. "So?" It's not like she has all day to hang out in some rich girl's mansion.

"Oh, right, of course." Jemma nods, looking almost relieved to have something to focus on. She pauses again, seeming to consider. "It started out as little things, at first. Someone driving by in the middle of the night blaring loud music or a car being parked down the street with its alarm left blaring. That started a few weeks ago.

"But recently…things have gotten worse. I'm getting phone calls all night long, just endless ringing and ringing and ringing." Jemma shakes her head, clearly trying to banish the sound from her memory. "And whenever I answer, there's no one there. Of course. I've tried to just ignore it but it doesn't matter. I can't sleep. And the car alarms…the music…" She looks back at Skye and that helpless look is back. "I feel like I haven't slept for more than a few minutes at a time in weeks. I can't focus at school, I can't concentrate on my work. I got a eighty-seven on my history exam. An eighty-seven."

Skye would be more than pleased to make a grade like that one. She'd probably hang it on the fridge and everything. But something on Jemma's face suggests that that is most definitely not the case, so she decides to keep her comments to herself.

"What about your parents?" Skye questions, arching an eyebrow. "They've had to realize these things are going on right?"

Jemma shrugs. "My mum is in Greece filming a movie." She explains. "My father doesn't come home most nights, at least not until late. He's too busy working with…" She pauses. "He's busy."

Skye has the feeling that whatever Richard Simmons is up to most nights, it has to do with slandering Coulson. She feels a stab of anger slice through her chest and she wants to get up and walk out. Let Jemma Simmons deal with her own problems; consider it penance for all the tossing and turning Coulson has done over the past few months.

But Skye stays put. "So you think whatever is going on is directly targeting you?"

Jemma shrugs. "I'm sure you noticed there aren't really any other houses out here." She points out. "Plus the music and car alarms…it's all close. And the phone calls."

Skye nods, trying to figure out what Coulson would do in this situation. What questions would he ask? What steps would he take? "Why?" Skye questions. "Why would someone be harassing you like this?"

"I don't know." Jemma mutters, sounding small and helpless. "I've been trying to figure that out but I don't…" She shakes her head. "I don't know. I just want it to stop."

Skye hates the way that her chin trembles when she says this, how it looks like she's trying not to burst into tears. She doesn't know Jemma Simmons. She doesn't like her on principle. But Skye really hates bullies.

"Okay. Well…" Skye worries her thumbnail between her teeth, thinking. "Maybe you can try to think about anyone who might want to mess with you. Anyone at all. And we can…" She is not good at this PI stuff right now. "We can figure out who owns the car with the alarm. That's a start at least."

Good job Skye. She wants to pat herself on the back.

Jemma nods, looking relieved at the suggestion. "Yes, excellent. Though, it would be nice to make it one night without something going on."

But she doesn't look like she believes that's going to happen.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

"You didn't stop by the office today."

"I had a lot of homework."

It's the first time that Skye can remember lying to Coulson. She used to lie to her foster parents all the time, mostly because she thought if she told a white lie here and there it would make them more inclined to keep her. She never lied to Coulson because she knew it wouldn't save her in the end and then, eventually, there wasn't a need to lie to him at all. She feels marginally guilty for doing so now, especially because she spent most of the afternoon with Jemma Simmons, the daughter of one of the people continually dragging his name through the mud.

Not that he needs to know that.

Coulson nods, passing her a takeout container of white rice and another one of lo mein. Skye manages to resist the urge to just start eating straight out of the containers; she grabs a plate like a civilized person.

"So," Skye begins as nonchalantly as she possibly can, "any interesting cases come in today?"

Coulson gets that look on his face, the one that suggests that he really doesn't want to be talking to her about this kind of stuff. But it's like he's pretty much given up hope on keeping his work life separate from his home life, especially since Skye has stepped into the secretarial role.

"Just the usual." He says vaguely. "A husband thinks his wife is cheating. A woman wants me to look into her husband's spending habits because she thinks he's got a gambling problem. Nothing for you to worry about."

Skye nods, fiddling with her chopsticks. "What do you usually do in cases like that?" She questions, looking down at her food, still going for casual.

Coulson gives her a look and Skye shrugs innocently. "I'm just curious!" She protests.

"Usually follow the cheating spouses, try to figure out where they go, who they see. That sort of thing." Coulson answers after a moment of silent. "Most people make it easy because they head to the Camelot Motel sooner or later."

Skye gives him a thoughtful nod, spooning rice and noodles into her mouth. She waits a moment longer before asking, "What if you were dealing with someone who was being harassed? Like all night phone calls, annoying noises in the middle of the night, stuff like that?"

Coulson seems to consider her question. "Track down who owned the car. Trace the calls. People are usually pretty stupid, they aren't that great at covering their tracks."

Tracing the phone calls, that's definitely an obvious one. Why didn't she think of that? At least now she has an agenda. Maybe she's not so bad at this private eye stuff after all.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

Jemma looks exhausted when Skye sees her the following morning, which is an immediate answer to the question on Skye's lips. Obviously the annoyances continued last night.

"It was the phone calls." Jemma tells Skye without her even needing to ask. "And around three someone started setting off fireworks."

Skye arches an eyebrow. "Fireworks?"

Jemma just nods, looking vaguely annoyed by the whole thing. "I tried to see out the window but there wasn't…I couldn't see anyone." Jemma sighs and leans back against the lockers behind her, closing her eyes. "I have a biology exam in two hours. I couldn't even remember my locker combination."

"Can't someone like write you a note?" Skye questions. "I mean these are extenuating circumstances here."

Jemma just shakes her head. "My parents wouldn't tolerate any excuses." She assures Skye. "I'm number one in the senior class. They've never made a secret of the fact that it should be kept that way."

Skye wrinkles her nose. That definitely explains Jemma's stress over to the eighty-seven on her history exam.

"Okay, I'll go by Coulson's office today and see what kind of equipment I can get." Skye assures Jemma. "We can trace the phone calls. And-"

"You don't look so good, Simmons."

Jemma sighs and doesn't bother to turn around to address the speaker. Skye glances up, narrowing her eyes slightly. There are two guys standing a few feet behind Jemma and Skye is most definitely not impressed. The taller of the two has lanky hair, baggy clothes and a smirk that clearly indicates that he tries too hard to look this disinterested and cool. The other is as obviously a have-not as his friend is obviously wealthy. Skye knows what thrift store clothes look like; they definitely stand out in a sea of designer labels and fashion week replicas and this kid's outfit is no exception. He's squirrely and his beady eyes and shaved head definitely don't do anything to detract from the anxious vibe.

"You look a little stressed." The taller of the two is the one who has taken it upon himself to heckle Jemma. "Pressure getting to be too much for you?" He laughs.

His friend just shakes his head. "Let's go." He sighs, nudging his friend in the side. "We've got some stuff to go over before class."

For a minute, Skye thinks that the other guy is going to protest just so he can hang around and bug Jemma some more. But, thankfully, he just follows his friend down the hallway, laughing and shaking his head, saying something that Skye can't make out.

She glances back at Jemma. "Who were those guys?"

"Donnie Gill and Seth Dormer." Jemma replies, her voice thin. "Clearly not my biggest fans."

Skye arches an eyebrow. "So money can't make you popular with everyone." She nods thoughtfully. "Good to know."

Jemma narrows her eyes, looking unimpressed by the comment. But, like she did with Skye's previous comment, she lets it slide.

"I've got to get to class." Jemma says shortly. "I expect I'll see you later today."

Skye nods. "Yeah, I'll try and get the stuff and come by."

Jemma doesn't say anything; she simply nods and then starts down the hallway without looking back.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

Skye waits until Coulson heads out to do surveillance on the husband with the gambling problem before she slips into his office and starts rooting around through his trusty bag of tools. Well, it's more like a big cardboard box of tools but same difference. She takes a few surveillance cameras, as well as his digital camera with the long range lens. Her laptop will allow her to access the sites that Coulson uses to look up vehicle registrations and perform background checks. Now that she's hacked into his accounts and decrypted his passwords, the world is her oyster.

Skye hopes that she can return all of Coulson's gear before he realizes that it's missing. She doesn't want to do anything to put herself on his bad side unnecessarily. It's been two years since she first set foot in Coulson's house but she doesn't want to let her guard down. She doesn't want to assume that she's safe. What Coulson doesn't know hopefully won't hurt her.

Once again, Jemma is the one that lets her into the house and instead of heading up to her bedroom, she leads Skye toward the back terrace. Just like Skye expected, the pool is much nicer than the one that sits at the back of the apartment complex that she lives in. There's also a backyard bar and a whole fancy grilling set up, equipped to entertain and cook for dozens of people. But there's no one else outside aside from Jemma and Skipper and the boy that Skye has seen hanging around Jemma in the hallways and at lunch.

"This is Fitz." Jemma says, gesturing vaguely in his direction when she sits down at a long, glass-topped table. "Fitz, you know Skye."

Skye tries not to take that statement personally. She tries to believe that Fitz knows her through conversations with Jemma, not because of her own infamy thanks to her association with Coulson.

Skipper comes bounding across the yard, dropping a wet tennis ball into Skye's lap. Skye makes a face and Jemma laughs, sounding more cheerful than she has thus far. "Sorry. Sometimes he still thinks he's a puppy." She whistles and Skipper trots over to her, glancing mournfully at the abandoned tennis ball.

Skye nudges the damp ball out of her lap and when it goes rolling across the terrace, Skipper hurries after it, content to play by himself.

Fitz is studying Skye closely and she looks over in his direction, arching an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"So you're like a private investigator?" He questions, seemingly unphased by the tone of her voice.

"No." Skye shakes her head. "Definitely not."

"But you're still going to get the guy who's been doing this, right?" Fitz asks. "I can't wait to get my hands on that bloody wanker."

Skye does her best to hide a smile, shaking her head. Fitz doesn't look like he'd be much of a threat to anyone, especially not some asshole who gets his kicks harassing teenage girls.

"Well, I've got some cameras we can set up outside, see if we can catch anyone driving by or lurking around." Skye explains, dropping her heavy bag onto the table. "And I can run a trace on the number. We really need to the get the license plate if the car shows up again. That should help us figure out who's doing this."

Jemma just nods, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes. "And quickly, please." She mumbles. "Bio today did not go very well."

Skipper returns, resting his head across Jemma's legs and she scratches his ears without opening her eyes.

"We will." Skye assures her, trying to figure out where the sudden surge of confidence and concern has come from. Whoever is doing this clearly knows exactly what tactics to employ to attempt to break his victim.

Not that Skye particularly cares. But it would be nice if she could catch the guy.

Skye and Fitz head out to the front yard to figure out where to place the cameras and she's grateful that he's tagged along when it turns out to be a little trickier to set up the cameras and sync the feed to her computer than she first thought.

"So," Skye questions once they get the last one in place, "are you like her boyfriend or something?"

She's not exactly great at the whole small-talk, polite conversations thing.

Fitz just smirks, as if amused by the whole idea. "No." He shakes his head. "Definitely not."

Skye kinda wants him to elaborate on that particular response but she doesn't want to seem too curious. She's just here to figure out who's been bothering Jemma so that she can get paid.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

It's late but Skye hasn't been able to sleep thanks to the assortment of thoughts running through her mind. She's been struggling with what else she can do to help Jemma. She's been thinking about the homework that she left undone because she was at the Simmons household until later than necessary. And Coulson isn't home, which isn't exactly a rare occurrence but still enough to keep her awake and staring up at her ceiling, listening to the sounds of the have-nots all around her.

When she hears the sound of the front door opening, Skye practically flies out of bed, hurrying down the hallway and toward the living room. Coulson looks surprised to see her standing there but the expression on his face quickly turns to one of guilt. "Hey," he says softly, "go back to sleep. I didn't mean to wake you."

Skye switches on the light and Coulson winces at the sudden brightness. Or maybe it's the bruises on his face and the fact that his lip is split and bleeding that causes him to wince.

"Coulson," Skye moves toward him, "what happened? Are you okay?"

He waves her away, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine." He assures her, moving toward the kitchen. He's moving stiffly, his hand pressed to his side. Skye follows after him, anxious. "Apparently the gambling husband didn't appreciate me getting involved in his business." Coulson remarks. "Who would have thought?"

Skye fills a baggie with ice and wraps it in a dishtowel, handing it over to him. Coulson sits down in one of the bar stools, giving her a grateful smile. "Seriously, Skye, I'm fine. Go back to bed."

It sounds like more a command than a suggestion and the foster child in her is desperate to obey, to adhere to the rules that she learned when she was a little girl. Follow the rules and maybe they won't send you back.

But there's also a part of her that wants to stay, to ascertain that Coulson is, in fact, all right despite his outward appearance.

Coulson tips his head in the direction of the bedrooms and Skye sighs, willing herself to return to bed.

"Skye." She pauses, turning back to face him. "I know you think I'm just being overprotective and that I worry for nothing but this…this is what being a PI will get you. It's dangerous. You understand me?"

Skye just nods and hurries to her bedroom, closing the door behind her. She gets back into bed, thinking about Jemma once more. She definitely understands Coulson's meaning; he's warning her against her own curiosity. But trying to help Jemma figure out what's been going on is hardly the same thing as trailing cheating spouses and addicts, right?

Somehow, Skye doubts that Coulson will see it that way. But she's pretty good at keeping secrets.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

"So the calls are being made from a disposable phone." Skye explains the following day at school. "So they're untraceable."

Jemma just groans and Fitz frowns, his brow furrowing. Clearly when Coulson said that most people weren't smart enough to cover their tracks, he hadn't taken these assholes into account. Figures.

"The cameras didn't get anything either." Skye says, even though she feels like it's just bad news on top of bad news. "Not yet."

Jemma forces a smile, putting her hand over Skye's. "Thanks for trying."

"Hey, I'm not done yet." Skye assures her, spurred by the resigned tone in Jemma's voice. "We'll figure it out."

At least she sounds sure.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

Skye is surprised when Jemma sits down at her lunch table. She's pretty sure it's the first time in the entire history of her time at Neptune High that anyone has bothered to do such a thing. Skye looks around, trying to figure out if this is about to end badly but no one else seems to be paying any attention to them. For once.

"Fitz is in the library working on an English assignment." Jemma says by way of an explanation. "I thought you might want the company."

Skye makes a noncommittal noise but she doesn't exactly try to chase Jemma away either. They even manage to make stilted conversation, though it's far from rousing or stimulating thanks to Jemma's exhaustion and Skye's own inability to be social. But still, it's kinda nice to have someone to talk to. Even if it's just about the weather.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

Even after Fitz is no longer hampered by his English assignment, Jemma continues sitting with Skye at lunch. More often than not, Fitz will join them. Skye tries not to care about this development, tries to remind herself that it's just because she's helping Jemma figure out who's been harassing her and once all that's finally done with then she'll go back to sitting by herself and that's just fine with her, honestly. That's how she likes it.

But it's still a welcome change. You know, while it lasts.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

Skye gets to start her morning off with another wonderful news report featuring Sheriff Garrett and a rousing sound bite from Richard Simmons about how Coulson's bumbling has put the people of Neptune in danger. In all the time she's spent at Jemma's house over the past two weeks, she has yet to see Richard Simmons in the flesh and that makes it almost easy to ignore the fact that this jackass is actually Jemma's dad. Really, that's better for everyone.

And now, in addition to that wonderful start to the day, Skye gets to deal with jackasses at school who think they're funny. They aren't, but you should try telling them that. They also have yet to expand their repertoire, so Skye gets to hear the same old comments about Coulson that she's been enjoying for nearly ten months.

"Don't you all have anything better to do?" Jemma's voice surprises Skye. She's been so busy pointedly ignoring the comments from Ward and the rest of those idiots that she hadn't even realized that Jemma was around. "If only you spent as much time on your studies as you did picking on your fellow classmates than I might have more competition for the valedictorian spot."

Not exactly a biting comeback but it's better than nothing, Skye figures. It's probably the fact that Jemma is one of their own that makes Ward and his friends back off and disperse. Clearly having money and famous parents makes you part of the clique even if you don't have anything else in common.

Jemma smiles at her but Skye just looks down at her feet, scowling. "You don't have to do that, you know."

"Do what?" Jemma looks sincerely perplexed.

"Be nice to me." Skye tells her before stepping around Jemma and heading down the hallway to her first class.

It's better if they don't blur any lines here. Skye doesn't need friends. She needs to get to the bottom of the case that Jemma hired her to solve so she can get paid and move on. That's what she needs.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

Skye wakes to the sound of her phone ringing and she knocks almost everything off her bedside table (including her lamp and a glass of water) as she fumbles around in the dark trying to find the device.

Her intention is to answer with the time-honored "hello." But what comes out is just a bunch of mumbling and grunting. She's not a morning person. She's even less of a abruptly woken in the middle of the night person.

"Skye, I'm sorry to wake you." Jemma's voice is taunt on the other end of the line but somehow quiet, as though she worries about waking someone else up on Skye's end. "I just…I wasn't sure what else to do."

"'S okay." Skye mumbles, rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her hand and sitting up in bed. She reaches for the lamp, only to remember that it hit the ground seconds before. "Wha's wrong?"

Jemma takes a deep, shuddery breath. "I think there's someone outside the house." She tells Skye. "We have motion sensitive lights and they keep clicking on and off. I thought it might be a rabbit or something but…it's happening too regularly."

"Maybe it's Skipper?" Skye suggestions, even though she knows it's probably useless to point this out. Surely Jemma Number One in My Class Simmons would have thought of that already.

"He's right here." Jemma tells her and Skye can picture the big, red dog sprawled out on the end of the bed. "I'm sure it's nothing but…I'm certain there's someone out there." She takes another breath. "I know there is."

Skye bites down the retort of "what do you want me to do about it" because that's really not how she feels about the situation. While she thinks that she might not exactly be the best person to call in this moment, it's not exactly like she's crazy about the idea of just telling Jemma not to worry about it and hanging up the phone.

Jemma is her friend. Kinda. Sorta. Skye has no idea how that happened.

"Okay." Skye says instead, untangling herself from the covers and slipping out of bed. "I'll come over. Just…stay in your room until I call you, okay? I'll check around outside when I get there."

Jemma thanks her profusely, relief dripping from every word. Skye hesitates, wondering if it might not be the best idea to hang up. But she finally ends the call and slips the phone into her pocket, easing her bedroom door open and creeping quietly past Coulson's door. She can hear him snoring softly on the other side, oblivious to his foster daughter sneaking out.

Skye scribbles a note and leaves it on the counter: left for school early, had to study! It's unlikely that Coulson will believe her but it's better than nothing.

Skye has a bicycle, a leftover relic from Coulson's ex-wife that he never tossed out. She's grateful for that now because it would be a really long walk to Jemma's house otherwise.

By the time she reaches the Simmons' residence, Skye is sweaty and out of breath, her tank top and pajama pants sticking to her skin. She's already regretting this midnight act of heroism. She knows better than to go sneaking around Neptune after nightfall, even if she is going to the wealthy part of town. Whoever is harassing Jemma hasn't done anything crazy yet, but there's no telling what his intentions are right now. Hopefully those intentions don't include shooting one teenaged private eye.

When Skye gets to the house, she takes a deep breath and dutifully pokes around. The motion sensitive lights that Jemma was talking about light up the whole backyard, flooding nearly every inch in bright light. Skye squints, shielding her eyes. She can see Jemma's bedroom window from where she stands; undoubtedly, the intentions of the midnight prowler were to continually flood Jemma's room with light so she couldn't get to sleep. Hopefully that's all he had in mind.

Regardless, Skye can't see anyone else lurking around outside. Whoever was here seems to be gone now.

Skye calls Jemma and heads to patio to be let inside. Jemma's face floods with relief when she sees Skye there and she throws her arms around her, clinging to her tightly. Skye blinks, surprised. But the hug is kind of nice and Jemma smells like honeysuckle and her body is warm against Skye's. Skye gives her an awkward pat on the back before stepping out of the embrace.

"I think you're okay." Skye says, clearing her throat and glancing over her shoulder toward the now dark backyard. "I think he was just messing with you again."

Jemma worries her bottom lip, peering past Skye's shoulder. Skipper is standing beside her, sniffing the air and wagging his tail, clearly ready for a late night adventure. Skye hopes it's a good sign that the dog doesn't seem bothered.

"Thank you for coming." Jemma says. "I feel foolish now…I shouldn't have called." She shakes her head, embarrassed. "I'm normally a lot more level-headed."

Skye shrugs, waving her hand dismissively. "It's fine. I'll just bill you." She winks.

Jemma smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes and Skye can tell there's still something on her mind, something bothering her. "What's wrong?" Skye questions, arching an eyebrow.

"I…it's nothing." Jemma shakes her head, smiling again. But Skye gives her a look that suggests that she clearly doesn't believe her so Jemma just sighs. "Would you…do you think you could…stay? I know it's silly but…it's only me and…" She trails off, looking at Skye hopefully.

Skye purses her lips. "Sure." She agrees before her mind can consult with her mouth. Damn it mouth.

But the way that Jemma smiles at her makes Skye think it's not such a horrible idea after all.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

Skye wakes up and feels incredibly trapped, like the walls are closing in on her from both sides. She also feels very hot and extremely comfortable despite the two previous sensations.

On her left side is one big, red dog. On the other is one still sleeping girl, who has her head resting on Skye's pillow in spite of the fact that she has a perfectly good pillow of her own. And plenty of room in this giant king sized bed. There should be plenty of room for all three of them but here they are, all crammed in together with Skye in the middle of their sandwich.

Really, Skye should mind more than she does.

Instead she just smiles and shifts her position, closing her eyes and snuggling closer to Jemma. Mostly because she doesn't want dog hair all over her clothes and it's probably not sanitary to sleep with a dog in your bed anyway.

And then Jemma's alarm goes off and Skye curses her rotten luck. She's insanely comfortable; this is probably the softest mattress ever made in the history of mankind and Skye just wants to just snuggle under the blankets and sleep for days.

But Jemma is already waking, roused by the sound of the alarm. She blinks, surprised, when she lifts her head and sees Skye there next to her. Her lips curl up in a faint smile and Skye is surprised to feel her stomach lurch, like the moment when the elevator starts to go down.

"I think this is the most I've slept in weeks." Jemma says softly, her voice still thick with sleep. "If only it were a weekend."

"Well, you know, it could be…" Skye points out, a mischievous smile on her face.

But Jemma just gives her a look, pushing the blankets aside and getting out of bed. Clearly playing hooky is not in the cards. Skye should have known better; she is dealing with Miss Perfect GPA after all.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

Skye might have gotten up in the middle of the night, biked across town, searched for prowlers and spent the night in someone else's bed but she's pretty sure that she's having the best morning of her life. It probably has something to do with the fact that she's wearing an actress's designer clothes and had the best shower ever but Skye isn't going to fight it.

Even Jemma looks fresh-faced and bright-eyed, smiling easier than she has before and seemingly more like the girl Skye imagines she was before all this crazy mess with car alarms and people stalking around her backyard.

"You'll just have to spend the night every night." Jemma remarks playfully at lunch, a smile on her face.

Skye's stomach does that elevator drop again.

It's actually really annoying.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

Midterms are due to start in a few days and Jemma is in better spirits, clearly optimistic about her return to academic excellent. "It's been three days since any foolishness." She tells Fitz and Skye with a wide smile one morning. "You must have scared them off, Skye."

"Oh yeah, you know me." Skye rolls her eyes, flexing her very nonexistent arm muscles. "The Incredible Hulk."

"Well, whatever the reason it couldn't have happened at a better time." Jemma remarks. "If I don't perform well on my midterms then I can say goodbye to the valedictorian position."

"You're going to do fine." Skye assures her with a roll of her eyes. "You're pretty much the smartest person I've ever known."

Fitz lets out a huff, giving Skye the side eye. She just rolls her eyes, shaking her head at him.

After Fitz disappears into his calculus class, Jemma walks with Skye toward her history classroom just like she does most mornings. Only this morning, she's particularly quiet which Skye has come to take as a sure sign that there's something going on in that giant mind of hers.

"Skye," Jemma says when they finally reach the open classroom door, "I was wondering…if you might be interested in going out to dinner with me sometime? This weekend perhaps? As a thank you for everything you've done."

Skye feels her cheeks start to heat up and she prays it's not as noticeable to Jemma as it feels to her. "I…I didn't really do much." She says with a shrug.

Jemma smiles at her and Skye's heart flip flops. "Go to dinner with me anyway."

For a brief moment, Skye thinks about saying no. Two months ago, she would have been able to convince herself that it was the only possible answer, that she didn't want anything to do with the rich kids, especially not the daughter of Richard Simmons. But right now, for the life her, she can't imagine why she would ever turn down the chance to have dinner with Jemma Simmons.

"Okay." Skye says, shrugging like it's no big deal. Like her heart isn't hammering in her chest. Like her palms aren't sweaty. Like she isn't wondering if this is a date, if Jemma Simmons is asking her out. Like she isn't trying to figure out if she wants Jemma to ask her on a date. "Sure."

Jemma smiles wider, her nose scrunching slightly and Skye is pretty sure that she definitely wants this to be a date.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

"You want takeout or pizza tonight?" Coulson questions Friday morning when Skye has finally shuffled into the kitchen. "There's a marathon of cheesy black and white horror movies on one of the cable channels. Maybe even some ice cream?"

Skye gives Coulson a regretful look before heading toward the fridge and yanking the door open. "I can't. I have," she pauses, swallowing down the word 'date', "plans."

Even though Skye can't see him, she's certain that Coulson is looking at her intently, using his special sheriff abilities to hear what she's not saying. Like the word 'date.' She's pretty sure that he's thinking the word 'date' right now.

"Oh, really?" Coulson questions and Skye can hear the smirk in his voice. "Important plans?"

Skye grabs the milk and shrugs, avoiding looking at Coulson. "Just plans." She mumbles.

Coulson smiles and Skye continues to ignore him.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

Skye feels incredibly underdressed for the restaurant that Jemma picks for their date, though she tries not to let it bother her. Even though it kind of does. At least the sight of Jemma sitting at the table across from her is enough to distract her from her concerns.

Or, rather, it's enough to fill her head with a whole different set of concerns.

Skye had thought that she'd wanted this evening with Jemma to be considered a date. But now that she's pretty sure that's exactly what it is, she doesn't know how to act. She feels like her friendship with Jemma had been tentative already, growing and slowly taking root despite Skye's misgivings and resentment toward the upper-class of Neptune, California. And now there's a whole new different set of variables to take into consideration.

When did her life get so complex? Skye isn't entirely sure that she's a fan.

But, it's hard to mind complexity when she's enjoying herself so much. Gone are the stilted conversations that she and Jemma once shared when they were sitting at the lunch table together. Now Skye finds herself talking easily and laughing even easier. She feels at ease with Jemma, relaxed. She doesn't feel like the poor foster daughter of a disgraced sheriff. She just feels like Skye.

When they finally make their way back to Jemma's car, Skye reaches for Jemma's hand without letting herself over think it. Jemma threads their fingers together, giving her hand a squeeze. Skye turns her head away to hide a smile. Even if the night ended right here, right in this very moment, she's pretty sure that she would die happy.

Of course, when Jemma leans in to kiss her, Skye is glad that the night didn't end with just the hand-holding. This is a much better way to end things.

"Would you like to come back to my house for a little while longer?" Jemma questions, shy and tentative despite the fact that she just spent the past few minutes kissing the breath out of Skye. "We could watch a movie?"

Skye just nods because she's still feeling too tongue-tied to formulate actually coherent words.

Throughout the drive, they keep the radio on low and their hands linked together and once again, Skye finds herself keeping her head hidden so that Jemma won't see the stupid smile on her face. She stares out the window, even though there's nothing much to see. The Simmons don't have many neighbors and they only pass one other car. Nothing worthy of her attention, though it keeps her from openly staring at Jemma throughout the entire drive so Skye figures she should be grateful for the old clunker and the carefully planted and groomed trees.

As usual, there's no one home at casa de Simmons, though Skye is definitely not about to complain. She can't imagine that she would be a fan of spending time with Jemma's parents under normal circumstances but right now she pretty much just wants Jemma all to herself. She wants to be able to snuggle up next to her on the couch and steal a kiss (or two) while trying to concentrate on whatever movie Jemma picks out.

Jemma flips on the light switches, setting her purse down and shrugging off her cardigan. "Would you like something to drink? The maid has already gone home for the night so I suppose I'll have to get it myself." She teases.

Skye rolls her eyes. "Funny." She follows Jemma into the kitchen, even though she's still thinking about the aforementioned cuddling and stolen kisses.

Jemma takes a bottle of water out of the fridge and then goes to the doors that lead out to the terrace, sliding them open. "Skipper!" She calls, whistling. "Come here boy."

Skye has been over enough times to know that Skipper comes running whenever he hears his mistress say anything that even vaguely resembles his name. Whistle and he's practically climbing into your lap.

But there's no Skipper. Not even the sound of dog feet rushing across grass and stone to heed the command.

Jemma switches on the light that illuminates the backyard, reflecting off the surface of the pool and the entertainment area. "Skipper!"

Skye feels a chill skitter down her spine, though she can't place the cause. When Jemma steps outside, she can't help but follow, biting back the urge to tell Jemma to stay inside and lock the door. Skye knows that she's being ridiculous. Clearly all those late night horror movie marathons with Coulson have started poisoning her brain. But still, she can't argue with the cold spreading throughout her stomach.

Jemma whistles again, clapping her hands together and calling for her dog. "That's odd." She muses, almost to herself. "I'm almost certain he was outside when I left earlier."

There's still no Skipper and Skye definitely feels like something is wrong now. That stupid dog never leaves Jemma's side and now he's suddenly gone AWOL. "Jemma…"

But she trails off, her attention otherwise occupied by a shadowy heap laying in the grass a few feet from where they're standing. Skye steps closer despite her misgivings, propelled by an urging in the back of her mind. Jemma seems to be drawn by the same voice, because she moves toward the heap right along with Skye.

It's Skipper. Skye knew that was going to be the case long before she was close enough to actually make out the shape of the dog. He's laying there in the grass, eyes glassy and his fur matted and damp. Skye hears the blood rushing in her ears, her heart pounding in the back of her head like a bass drum.

Jemma lets out a sound that's a strange mixture of a gasp and a sob, stepping forward and reaching toward the dog. Skye intercepts her, trying to turn her away and back toward the house. Jemma tries to wrench away, though her interest in fighting quickly dissolves and she seems to collapse against Skye, pressing her face against the crook of her neck and letting out a sob, clutching Skye tightly.

"Come on." Skye says softly, wrapping her arms around Jemma. "Let's go inside. You…don't look, okay?"

"I don't understand." Jemma says softly as she obediently allows Skye to lead her back into the house, keeping her eyes straight ahead. "What's wrong with him?"

Skye swallows, trying to ignore the ache in her heart at the sound of Jemma's voice. It's worse than the first time they spoke, when Jemma sounded so small and lost. She sounds that way now, only there's something more. She sounds broken.

Even when they're back in the house, Skye still feels that eerie sensation that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Like they're being watched. She sits down on the couch next to Jemma, hugging the other girl close to her. After a moment of hesitation, she reaches for her phone and dials the only number she's ever bothered to commit to memory.

Coulson answers after the first ring. "Skye? Everything okay?" Clearly his years as sheriff and his time as a PI have taught him to worry first, ask questions later.

Skye takes a breath. "I need you."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

Skye is waiting anxiously for Coulson to return from the backyard, alternating between watching Jemma out of the corner of her eye and watching the patio doors. Neither are particularly active at the moment. Jemma is sitting beside her on the couch, holding a mug of tea between her hands, though Skye is pretty sure that she hasn't bothered to take a sip.

Even though Skye had worried about how Coulson would react upon stepping foot into the home base of his arch nemesis, he hadn't acted like it was anything out of the ordinary. He'd made Jemma the tea and draped a blanket around her shoulders, displaying the same fatherly characteristics that had made Skye so desperate to stay with him in Neptune.

Skye's explanation of what had taken place had been brief and she hadn't exchanged more than a few words with Coulson since he'd walked through the front door. He might have been perfectly nice and sympathetic toward Jemma but Skye has the feeling that she is definitely on his shit list right now.

The patio doors finally swing open and Skye kisses Jemma on the forehead before hurrying over to where Coulson is standing. His clothes and hands are dirty and his forehead is beaded with sweat. He frowns when Skye walks over to him. "You and I have a lot to talk about." He informs her frankly and Skye figures that she should be relieved that he's at least not beating around the bush.

"I know." Skye mutters. "Listen-"

But Coulson just shakes his head. "No, Skye, you listen." He snaps and Skye immediately falls silent. She's never heard this particular tone in his voice and she's not sure she has a name for it. He's more that angry. He's afraid. "Someone killed that dog. Someone did this. You need to-"

"It was them, wasn't it?" Jemma's voice surprises Skye, seeing as she hasn't said anything for the past hour. Jemma is standing in the foyer, the blanket still hanging off her shoulders. "It was them."

Skye can feel Coulson's eyes burning into her, impatient and desperate for an explanation. But she moves away from him rather than answering, going to stand beside Jemma once more. Jemma leans into her, seemingly grateful for the contact.

The sound of a key sliding in the lock on the front causes them all to stiffen, the tension in the kitchen ratcheting up to the point of being almost palpable. Jemma steps away from Skye, straightening up and taking a deep breath.

Skye is pretty sure that there couldn't be a worse way for her to meet Richard Simmons. Honestly, she'd hoped to avoid that moment all together. Though, if such a meeting was inevitable, she definitely never imagined that it would take place after someone had just murdered Jemma's dog and with Coulson standing right there in the kitchen beside them.

"Jemma? Are you still up?" Richard's voice rings through the house, accompanied by the sound of keys being dropped onto the table and a lock being slid into place. "You've got enough lights on down here. Jemma?"

Richard stops when he steps into the kitchen and sees them all standing there. The expression on his face is briefly comical, though Skye doesn't feel much like laughing. But he recovers himself quickly, his face impassive and mildly annoyed. He looks over at his daughter. "What's going on?"

"Skipper is dead." Jemma says without inflection, not looking at her father.

Not that he would have noticed anyway because his attention is only on Coulson. "What are you doing here?" Richard questions, his words flattening Jemma's and pushing them aside.

Coulson just shakes his head, looking almost sad. "Nothing."

Skye narrows her eyes, glaring at Richard like she's so used to doing. Only it's completely different now that he's actually standing in front of her. Now she wants to do a lot more than just scowl. Like point out that he really doesn't have any room to be upset about Coulson's presence seeing as he's the guy who just spent the last hour burying his daughter's murdered dog.

"We were just leaving." Coulson adds, looking pointedly at Skye.

Skye looks over at Jemma, reluctant to leave her right now even though she knows that's the inevitable conclusion. It's not like she can dig her heels and refuse to leave, not with the epic gunslinger stare down that Coulson and Richard have going on right now.

"Now." Coulson's voice is low and soft but there's an edge to it that leaves no room for argument.

Skye steps away from Jemma, giving her one final look before following Coulson out of the kitchen and toward the front door. He slams the car door shut with enough force to cause Skye to wince and she closes her eyes, dreading the inevitable confrontation.

Honestly, she's impressed that Coulson manages to keep up with the silent treatment during the entire drive home. She can tell that he desperately wants to ask her what's going on, to get all the answers and then yell at her for the next few hours or days.

But Coulson manages to wait until they're in the apartment. He slams the door shut, tossing his keys aside and then looking at her expectantly. "Talk."

Skye thinks about breaking her own rule and lying. She thinks about making up some charming story about how Jemma befriended her at school and started tutoring her and they happened to become friends and maybe even something more and how she has no idea how the best night of her life suddenly turned into a nightmare featuring a dead dog and an angry foster father. But Skye knows that Coulson would see right through any story that she can tell him.

So she just tells him the truth. About Jemma asking for help because of the nightly incidents that were keeping her awake and how Skye hadn't thought it was a big deal, that it would be easy, that she'd get the bottom of it and everything would be happily ever after.

"Not a big deal?!" Coulson shouts, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "Skye! You did exactly what I told you not to! Exactly!"

Skye starts to protest but Coulson doesn't give her the chance. "Didn't I tell you not to get involved with anything that I do? That is was dangerous? That you could get hurt! People who spend hours each night harassing a teenage girl aren't playing around!"

"I know that!" Skye retorts, rolling her eyes. "Obviously."

"No, you don't." Coulson shakes his head. "This isn't a game, Skye. This town…this place…it's not a game. Those people-"

"Is that why you're upset?" Skye interrupts with a scoff. "Because I was helping out his daughter? Because that's who it was?"

Coulson gives her an incredulous look that Skye feels like could rival the ones that she's given in her day. "If you don't want me to treat you like a child, Skye, don't act like one. This has nothing to do with any of that. That girl hasn't done anything wrong. She doesn't deserve people toying with her and killing her dog in her own backyard anymore than she deserves to be blamed for the idiot things her jackass father says. Skye, these people are obviously trying to send a message. They obviously have an agenda. People like that typically don't like it when people like you and me stick our noses in their business."

Skye starts to retort but the words die on her lips, silenced by Coulson's words. Motive. An agenda. Of course.

"Oh my god." Skye says softly. "I need to go back to Jemma's."

Coulson gapes at her. "Are you even listening to a word I'm saying, Skye?" He questions. "You want to back there? Now?"

"It's important!" Skye protests. "It's about the case."

"There is no case!" Coulson shouts. "You aren't a detective Skye! You aren't a PI. You're a high school student and you're in way over your head right about now."

"Coulson, look, I need to-"

"No, Skye, no." Coulson shakes his head. "You don't. You need to keep yourself safe. You don't need to be tangled up in a situation where dogs get killed and people stalk teenage girls."

"Coulson-"

"I'm trying to keep you safe! Don't you realize that, Skye?" Coulson blurts, shaking his head as he looks at her. "This town already hates me. Nothing good can come from this place. Don't make it harder. Don't fight me, not on this. You're the only thing that matters to me and I'm not going to let something happen to you because you're out playing detective."

Skye feels herself start to deflate, like someone has taken the air and strength out of her body and left her empty and unable to stand on her own. She goes over to where Coulson is standing and puts her arms around him, holding onto him gratefully. Coulson hugs her tight enough to force the air out of her lungs but she doesn't complain or try to move out of his grip. She's been waiting her whole life to be hugged like this and she's not about to throw it away.

"I'm sorry." Skye says softly even though what she means is I love you. But she thinks that Coulson knows anyway.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

Her conversation with Coulson might have been enough to keep Skye from running back out the door last night but now that the sun has come up, she feels like it's perfectly acceptable to make her escape.

Okay, that's obviously a lie and she knows better. Coulson is going to ground her for the rest of her life, assuming he doesn't just decide to throw in the towel and send her ass back to St. Agnes for this. But hopefully she can get to the bottom of this before Coulson figures out that she's gone.

And so it's back on the bike and back to Jemma's house. This time, it isn't Jemma that opens the door when she knocks and Skye finds herself facing down an uninterested woman who just gives her a skeptical look as she explains that she's here to see Jemma and that it's important. Skye wonders if Richard told all his housekeepers to be on the lookout for a vaguely ethnic teenage girl who might come prowling around after his daughter.

At least the woman lets her in, directing her toward Jemma's bedroom. Skye knocks softly on the door before pushing it open and poking her head inside. Jemma and Fitz are leaning against the headboard both looking morose and like they haven't slept much. Jemma brightens slightly when she sees Skye standing in the doorway and beckons her closer.

Skye crawls into bed beside Jemma, pressing a kiss lightly against her temple. "I'm sorry." She says softly against her skin.

Jemma just shakes her head. "I just don't understand." She mumbles, pulling the blankets tighter around herself. "Whatever they want…they can have it. It doesn't matter anymore."

Skye sits up straighter, reaching for Jemma's hand. "Okay, that's the thing. I think I know what they want."

Fitz and Jemma are looking at her with renewed interest, clearly relieved to have something else to focus on other than the dead dog.

"Who is behind you in the class rankings?" Skye questions. "Who would become valedictorian if it wasn't you?"

Jemma looks confused, tilting her head she thinks. "Oh. Seth. Seth Dormer."

Skye just nods. "Thought so."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

"Look, I know you're probably really angry at me right now and I totally understand. But right now, I really need your help."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

Coulson knocks on the front door before taking a step back, waiting patiently for the door to swing open. Skye tries to keep herself from fidgeting or picking at her fingernails, even though she desperately wants to find an outlet for her anxiety. What if she's wrong? What if she's completely off base with this whole theory? Or, worse, what if she's right and Seth decides to kill her and Coulson like he killed Skipper.

Okay, obviously killing a dog is a little different than killing two people standing on your front porch but still. She's entitled to worry.

Finally Seth answers the door and looks miffed to see Skye and Coulson standing there. He pales slightly before clearing his throat. "Yeah?"

Coulson flashes his PI license, which doesn't look all that different from a regular officer's badge when glimpsed quickly. "We need to ask you a few questions."

Seth shakes his head. "No, I'm good." He moves to shut the door.

Skye steps forward, jamming her foot in the doorway before Seth can shut them out completely. She sees people do that in the movies all the time but in real life it kinda hurts.

"What's the big deal?" Skye questions, trying to force the door open with her shoulder. "I just want to talk to you."

Seth scoffs. "You're not a cop."

"I can go get them, if you'd prefer." Coulson chimes in. "I'm sure they'd be interested in our little conversation too. And probably a lot less lenient. You've got a couple charges of aggravated harassment under your belt right now, probably a few counts of trespassing. Not to mention the whole thing with the dog…"

"Hang on, dog? What dog?" Seth's confusion makes it easier for Skye to push the door back open and remove her throbbing foot. That's definitely going to bruise in the morning. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Skye rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "Oh, of course. You have no idea about everything that's been happening to Jemma Simmons. Nothing to gain out of someone harassing her to the point where she couldn't concentrate on her homework and studying."

Seth frowns, shifting his eyes away from Skye's. Skye feels a thrill of excitement. Gotcha.

"The dog was low though, Seth." Skye shakes her head. "Did you really have to go that far?"

Seth glares at her. "I don't know what you're talking about. What dog?" He crosses his arms over his chest.

"Skipper. Though, you probably didn't even bother to learn his name before you killed him."

Seth's eyes go wide and his mouth drops open slightly. "Killed…what! I never killed anybody's dog!"

Skye frowns, confused by the sincere shock on Seth's face. Her eyes wander toward the driveway and the perfectly shiny BMW parked in front of the garage. If she and Coulson hadn't staked out the house waiting for Seth's parents to leave, she'd suspect the car might be theirs. Or if she didn't live in a place where having a brand new BMW was common for people under the age of eighteen. She knows that the car is Seth's.

And it's not at all like the car she saw when they were driving to Jemma's the night before.

Of course. Skye wants to roll her eyes at herself. Idiot.

"No, you didn't, did you?" Skye turns her attention back to Seth. "You just had your best friend do it for you."

Seth opens and closes his mouth several times, looking like a fish out of water, before finally just shaking his head. "He's not my friend." He protests weakly.

Skye just rolls her eyes. "I'd get a better story if I were you."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

Donnie Gill doesn't look nearly as surprised to see them as Seth did, though he looks just as guilty.

"He already told us everything." Coulson informs Donnie frankly, even though that's not exactly the case. Skye can't help but be impressed; Coulson definitely has the whole cop swagger thing down. "So you might as well get it off your chest." He rests his hand on Donnie's shoulder, a comforting gesture. "You were just trying to help out a friend, right?"

Donnie doesn't say anything, shaking his head weakly.

"I know what it's like." Coulson assures Donnie. "Wanting to be cool, wanting to be friends with the rich kids. It's fun, right? You just wanted to get in with that crowd?"

Donnie tries to protest but eventually stops himself and finally just nods. Coulson pats him on the back and looks at Skye over his head, winking and giving her a smile. Skye resists the urge to pump her fist in the air. It's not exactly professional, after all.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

"We make a pretty good team, huh?"

"Don't even think about it."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

With Seth and Donnie on academic probation and Seth officially removed from the running for the valedictorian spot, there's almost no competition to speak of, even with Jemma's recent subpar grades. Though, in light of recent events, she's been given the chance to retake her recent exams and granted a grace period for her midterm exams so that she can get herself back in tip-top academic shape.

Though, knowing Jemma, that's not exactly going to take long.

"You could definitely do this on the side, you know." Fitz suggests at lunch. "Solving mysteries, catching the bad guys." He seems incredibly entertained and maybe even a little excited by this idea.

Skye just smirks, rolling her eyes. "A teenaged private eye?" She arches an eyebrow. "Sounds a little bit ridiculous, don't you think?"

Though, when Jemma sits down beside her and gives her a quick kiss by way of a greeting, Skye does have to admit that it does have its perks.


End file.
